Meldamiriel
by mypreiciousfrodo
Summary: Larkspur Louisa Brandybuck was a wanderer. She dreamed of going on adventures to find out about her real family. The truth was, she wasn't really a Brandybuck, and Merry wasn't really her brother. Will all of her dreams of adventure come true when she meets the mysterious Frodo Baggins, or will she get more than she bargined for?
1. Maiden of the Meadow

_**Chapter One: Maiden of the Meadow**_

_It all bloomed from a call. _

_A call from the blossoming trees and the green grass of spring. _

_An urge, from the thoughts of Mother Nature herself, _

_Hinting, that it was meant to be... _

No one ever quite understood my strong connection with the green gardens of the Shire. I was always twirling in a yellow dress out with the butterflies in the fields, my long, dark red, curly hair springing out like an umbrella around me. The warm, yellow sun on my skin was always inviting. I was always near nature.

I suppose that was what got me through life in those days. For me it seemed like bad luck sprouted out of the ground around me like weeds.

I never knew my real parents. I was left on the Brandybuck doorstep as an infant with my older sister. She was about six at the time. The Brandybuck family took us in, but my sister was taken away two years later. I never saw her again; I didn't even know her name. So I was the only one of "my family" still left to be raised by the Brandybucks.

I grew up with their harsh rules and punishments, and I don't think they even wanted me there. I was just in the way. They also had a son named Meriadoc, who was the same age as me, but he pretended like I didn't exist and didn't want anything to do with me. He was too busy. Too busy getting into mischief with his accomplice Peregrin Took. He's a bad influence. Those Tooks are always getting their noses into trouble, but Pippin was always very polite to me, so I suppose he made up for it.

Tragically, both my guardians-Merry's parents-drowned when I was seven. Merry was affected immensely by it. After that, he changed a lot and started becoming more mature and even cared for me a bit. I suppose he felt that now he was responsible for the fate of his family. After all, I was adopted into the family, and I had no idea what my last name was before. I was a Brandybuck, adopted or not.

So since I was an infant, I have been living at the Brandybuck's hole in Hobbiton, trying to stay alive with Merry. I guess all of my grief was released when I was near nature. And that's exactly how it all began; that's how in the midst of all the weeds, flowers started blooming, and some good luck started growing for me. Clear, blue skies blanketed Hobbiton that day. The sun shimmered down through the giant tree's strong branches. It was early spring.

I frolicked through the tall vivid-green grass. Pink and white daisies sprung up along the path as I danced through the woods. I had no particular destination. You could say I was just "wandering".

I had awakened that morning alone in the Brandybuck's quiet hole with the sun glinting happily around the room. Merry was off stirring up mischief with Pippin, so I had some free time to myself before he came back and made me make Elevensies. It was half after nine. I had plenty of time on my hands.

I had skipped breakfast and second breakfast. I had no time for that. The world was waiting, and that day, so was someone else: fate.

I bent down and plucked a pink flower out of the ground and stuck it in my red curls. I then began to sing the song my sister used to sing to me as I wandered through the trees. When I was upset, she would place me on my bed, run her fingers through my hair, and sing this song:

"Our Journey's keep going, Like the brooks of my childhood. Rising and flowing, No one is knowing, Where it will end up, Around the bend, But unlike our Journeys, Brooks come to end.

A shadow whis..,"

I abruptly stopped in mid-verse, and curiously glanced around myself. Someone else had been humming my tune.

A few yards in front of me stood a strong, thick, old tree with beautiful green leaves that didn't have a speck of brown within them. Below the tree was a young boy.

He was a hobbit, about my age, skimming through a leather book. One of his ankles rested on his knee, his back against the tree. I couldn't see his face for he was looking down at the book in his hands. His dark-brown curly head of hair had leaves and flowers strewn in it as if he had been rolling in a pile of the contents.

I gazed at him, dumbstruck. I had never seen anyone in the trees of the Shire before. Not when I was present.

I finally gathered my senses and stopped gaping at him. Then I asked curiously, "How do you know that song?"

The hobbit under the shade of the tree sighed and answered in a crystal-clear, soothing cadence without looking up, "One hears many things in the gardens of the Shire, my dear: tales and songs of great kingdoms far away, dragons, _adventures_."

My jaw dropped open again. I lit up with surprised joy. "You've heard of adventures about dragons and far away kingdoms?!"

"Yes, my friend. In fact, my dear Uncle Bilbo went on an adventure such as you've described."

I couldn't believe it. I was awestruck. Nobody ever goes on adventures in the Shire. We sing of them, but we never dare to go on them. His Uncle had been on an adventure! I cocked my head to the side, "What's your name?"

He still kept his head down. "Frodo. Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo."

I smiled at his name: Frodo. It sounded sweet and tingled on my lips. "Well, Frodo, son of Drogo, are you going on an adventure anytime soon?"

Frodo paused, "What's your name?" he asked.

"My name is Larkspur. Larkspur Louisa Brandybuck." I replied.

With that he gazed up at me for the first time, slowly, eyes smiling. My heart skipped two beats. They were ocean-blue like an eclipse on the horizon. Behind his pupils were flecks of gold like the sun. His boyish, ebony face broke into a half-smile. He confidently said, "I can guarantee it."


	2. He Disappeared Into the Smaug

_**Chapter Two: He Disappeared Into the Smaug**_

It was September 22nd: Bilbo's 111th birthday. The sun was just still barely glistening over the peaks of the mountains in the West, but the fields of Hobbiton were still busy with people dancing, singing, talking, and eating. Almost everyone was invited to the party.

I sat upon a wooden bench, the mid-summer air sitting moist on the back of my neck; I surveyed the party: Pippin and Merry were off making mischief as usual. Bilbo was telling young hobbits the stories of his holiday. Gandalf, the wandering wizard-who was one of Bilbo's companions on his journey to Lonely Mountain-was busy bustling about, lighting fireworks. Samwise Gamgee was sitting next to me eying a pretty hobbit named Rosie. I was grinning ear to ear as I watched the dark-haired hobbit in front of me laugh and dance in time to the music. It was Frodo. Oh yes, it was his birthday as well.

It seemed ages ago that I met that mysterious, young hobbit under the tree. He hadn't changed a bit. He says I haven't changed either, but I know I have gained more incredible knowledge since then: I grew to know the greatest adventures of Bilbo Baggins, met Samwise Gamgee-Frodo's gardener-and even became more acquainted with Merry. All of this was because of Frodo. How could one person change your life so much?

Frodo motioned for me to join him, laughing. I shook my head "no", a grin still bursting through on my face, raised my mug of punch to him, and took a swig.

"Come on, Larks!" he whined, playfully and pulled me off the bench by my wrists.

I blushed nervously as I started to bob around with the music. I gazed up at Frodo's laughing eyes and relaxed. "There you go!" he encouraged. He grinned at me, and my stomach did a flip. I giggled and smiled back at his kind face.

I was just getting used to dancing with him when a roar of heat and light passed overhead. I was yanked down to the wet ground by a gentle arm. Whoever it was, pinned me to the ground with their arm around me, protecting me from the flame.

I gazed up in wonder at the dragon firework. My mouth opened in awe, I watched as it flew into the distance, and then exploded into a gigantic firework. I glanced at my protector. It was Frodo. "Thanks," I shyly said as he pulled me to my feet. Then my excitment overcame me: "Did you see that?! It was Smaug! Oh, it was amazing. Gandalf has really outdone himself!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, he has," Frodo chuckled. "It would have been even more amazing if it was the real Smaug, though." His eyes grew distant for a moment, but then came back to life when Bilbo stood, ready to perform a speech.

Frodo and I sat on a bench as he began. He rambled along about how he had been around for a long time, and he knew most of us less than we deserved (I think? It was a very complex statement that he made, and I had difficulty decifering it). But then he did something peculiar: He felt around in his pocket and said he was leaving. I cocked my head to the side, and my brows crinkled together. "I'm going now," Bilbo said and winked at Frodo. "I bid you all a very fond farewell."

"What?" said Frodo confused. And with that, Bilbo vanished into thin air.


	3. One Golden Ring

_**Chapter Three: On My Birthday, My True Love gave to Me, One Golden Ring**_

Frodo leaped off of the bench like he had been shocked and bolted off calling: "Bilbo?! Bilbo?!" like he was looking for a lost puppy. He ran up the path to Bag-End with me trailing swiftly behind.

Where had Bilbo gone? How did he just disappear into thin air? Would that be the last time I ever saw him? I prayed not.

Frodo burst through the green door of Bag-End, still calling Bilbo's name. Then something at his feet caught he eye. He bent down and gingerly picked it up. It was a ring set in gold with a haunting power that Gandalf had told us about. This was the One Ring of Sauron. Bilbo had found it years ago when he met Gollum.

I stared at it, placed in Frodo's palm. It called to me. "Larkspur? Larkspur?' it whispered. I snarled at it. I wanted it. I had to make Frodo give it to me.

Just as I was going to snatch it from Frodo's grasp, he stuffed it out of sight into his pocket. I relaxed. I realized what would have happened if Frodo hadn't of stuffed it away.

I bowed my head, ashamed. I hated that the Ring took control of everybody, especially me. I felt weak against its power over me. It taunted my thoughts.

All of a sudden, Gandalf cleared his throat across the room which shook me from my thoughts. He scowled and muttered, "Precious," as he smoked his pipe.

Frodo spoke sullenly, "He's gone to stay with the Elves. Hasn't he, Gandalf? And he's left me with the Ring?" He glanced down and frowned at his feet. In the firelight I could see many lines on poor Frodo's face. He had aged about ten years since he walked into Bag-End. It was the first time I had ever seen age on his young, laughing face.

Gandalf stood very quickly and turned to Frodo. "Yes, my dear Frodo. And I need you to leave with it I'm afraid, my lad. 'They' know it's here. We're not safe."

I gasped. Frodo paled. "No! How?! 'They' can't know it's here! No one knows it's here, except us!" I assured him.

Gandalf straightened up. "No, there was one other that knew of Bilbo's possession of the Ring."

"Gollum," Frodo said distantly, and Gandalf nodded.

Anger for the little creature rushed over me. "That lying little twisted, foul wretch! But Gandalf, what must we do? Where must we take it?" I asked.

"You must take it to Rivendell. I will meet you in Bree. I've got some questions I need answered," he explained as he pushed us along. "Go ahead, and start packing. You've got a long..," he cut off, short.

There was a rustling in the bushes outside. "Get down!" Gandalf whispered and stuck his arm out of the window, groping in the bushes. Frodo and I hid behind a counter.

Gandalf pulled in a hobbit from the flower bushes, through the window, and onto the kitchen table. "Samwise Gamgee, have you been eavesdropping?!" he scolded.

Flustered, Sam answered, "I haven't been dropping no eaves, sir, Although, I did hear something about a ring and it not being safe here and Gollum. But please, Mr. Gandalf, don't turn me into anything unnatural."

Frodo and I rose and smirked at Sam; as did Gandalf. Gandalf sighed, relieved, "No Sam, I won't, but you will have to go with Larkspur and Frodo on their quest as punishment."

"Oh," Sam nodded. "With honor, Gandalf, sir."

Gandalf turned back to Frodo and I. "There isn't a moment to spare. As soon as you're packed and ready, leave, and go as fast as you possibly can. Stay out of sight. Keep it secret!" he whispered. "Keep it safe!" And with that he left the hobbit-hole with the door slamming behind him.


	4. I Will Hear what I've Heard Before

_**Chapter Four: I Know I will Hear what I've Heard Before**_

Two hours later, we were all packed and on the road to Rivendell. It was rather sad leaving the place I that I had grown up in behind me, but I supposed that maybe, along the way, I could possibly figure out who I really was. After all, who were my real parents? What was my sister's name, and where was she? I desperately needed to know.

The night turned to morning, and the morning faded into the afternoon, soon after. Sam, Frodo, and I settled for a rest.

When I caught the whispers of music on the breeze, Sam was cooking us a dinner of carrot stew over a small fire, Frodo was lying on the branches of an old oak, and I was lying on the wood's floor with my eyes dreaming of the sound of the forest.

I heard the stream of water trickling, softly through the crevices nearby. Birds fluttered through the tree's leaves. Then I heard it: magical music.

My eyes flicked open, cautiously. Frodo shifted in his tree, sitting up, listening. Sam stopped stirring the stew. Frodo's eyes turned to mine lit up and bright. He breathed, "Wood Elves!" astonished.

It grew dark as the three of us made our way through the forest, curiously. We peaked over a fallen log before us and saw a most spectacular sight: There was a trail of Elves, all fair and beautiful with blonde hair, riding on white steeds. There was a hazy, magical glow about them, and they were all singing.

My stomach lurched in shock. I knew this song. I looked to Frodo to see if he recognized it, but he was too taken in by the Elves enchantment to notice my concern. It was the song I had sung the day I met him. How did they know it?

Sam broke my thought and asked, "Where are they going?"

Frodo whispered back, hauntingly, as if he were saying a sacred spell. "They're going to the White Shores: the Grey Havens: the Undying Lands. They're leaving Middle Earth: never to return."

A chill of sadness ran through my veins. I shivered, and tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. "I don't know why," I whispered back to Frodo. "But it makes me sad."

Frodo's innocent eyes gazed upon mine with pity, and my eyes slinked away from their beauty to look at my worn hands in my lap. A warm, soft hand placed itself onto mine and gently squeezed, reassuringly. My eyes flickered up to meet Frodo's again, and he gave me a quick, reassuring, warm smile that made my stomach clench up.

We made our way back to camp. I had forgotten all about the Elves singing my mysterious song.

I awoke from my slumber to hear Sam grumbling, "Every time I move there's a dirty, great root sticking in my back!"

I heard Frodo sigh beside me and whisper, "Just close your eyes and pretend you're back in your own warm bed." I melted into Frodo's words. They were relaxing and soothing. I soon slipped back into a deep, hazy, golden slumber.

At dawn, we set out again. We parted with the Old Forest at about noon and crossed into Farmer Maggot's fields. I was so weary. My eyelids were only half open, and I'll I did was daydream as I looked at my feet when we started walking through the maze of corn stalks. I glanced up only once. When I did, I noticed that Frodo wasn't in front of me.

I turned back to Sam. "Where's Frodo gone to?" I asked worriedly.

Sam's hazel eyes widened in fear, and he called out, "Mr. Frodo? Mr. Frodo?! Frodo?!"

All of a sudden, Frodo came crashed in through the corn stalks. We breathed again. "Yes?" asked Frodo.

"Oh, we thought we'd lost you," Sam explained.

"What are you talking about?" Frodo was confused.

Sam said, "Oh, it's just something Gandalf said: 'don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee!' And I don't plan to."

Frodo chuckled, "Sam we're still in the Shire! What could possibly go wrong?"

In a rush, as if to explain Frodo's point, I was knocked to the ground, hard, by something that had come sprinting out of the corn.

Over to my right, where Frodo was, I heard a Scottish voice conclude, "Frodo?! Merry, it's Frodo: Frodo Baggins!" Apparently Frodo had been off his feet as well by Peregrin Took.

The body that landed on me spoke surprised, "Hello Frodo!" I realized that it was my brother.

I gasped for air. "Merry Brandybuck, you old devil, get your fat behind up off of me before I suffocate!"

With that Sam pulled Merry off of me, and I stood straightening out my wrinkled clothing. Frodo stood close by, shaking the weeds from his dark hair.

Merry grinned at me, mischievously. "Geez, Sis. Someone's in a grouchy mood today. Try to have some fun!" I glared at him.

There was yelling close by. Pippin began piling carrots, lettuce, and corn into Sam's arms. Sam gasped, "You've been in Farmer Maggot's crops!"

The yelling grew nearer. Frodo shouted, "RUN!" and we all made a dash for the edge of the field. We came to a drop-off and skidded to a halt, but Sam bumped into us all, and we went tumbling down into a large heap at the bottom of the hill with Pippin at the base of the pile.

We all moaned and groaned as we pulled ourselves from the stack. Merry groaned, "I think I've broken something," and pulled a broken carrot from behind his back.

I got to my feet, shaking my head in disgust. "Serves you right, Meriadoc Brandybuck. That's the second time within five minutes that you've fallen on me!"

Merry shrugged, "Sorry, Sis, but it's not my fault. We wanted to take a detour."

"A shortcut!" Pippin corrected.

"A shortcut to what?" I asked exasperated.

Pippin exclaimed, "Mushrooms!" and everyone gathered around a small patch of them. Everyone except Frodo.

He wandered to the middle of the road, looking down it, fearfully. I ambled to his side, following his line of gaze. It appeared gloomy in the shade of the trees. Frodo's eyes were worried.

"What is it, Frodo?" I whispered, cautiously.

"I think we should get off the road," he croaked.

I glanced down the road and saw that it was growing even more eeirier and darker.

All of a sudden, Frodo's eyes grew wide in terror and anxiety. He demanded in fear, "Get off the road! _QUICK!_"


	5. Brandywine Bridge is Falling Down

_**Chapter Five: Brandywine Bridge is Falling Down**_

We all scrambled beneath a spidery tree root on the edge of the path. It became chillingly quiet. There was a clop of horse's hooves on the rocks of the road. A terrible evil was near.

A hooded figure wrapped in a cloak as black as death sniffed at the air above us. We were paralyzed in fear. I looked to Frodo and saw he was about to put on the Ring! I grabbed his hands. His eyes snapped open in terror.

Then, Merry chucked a sack of vegetables deep into the woods. The figure shrieked an unearthly sound, and flew after the sack. We escaped, but not for long. There were still more hooded figures lurking around.

Frodo was still terrified. I could see the fear overflowing in his eyes when he said, "Merry - Larkspur, Sam, and I need to get to Bree."

Merry nodded. "Buckleberry Ferry," he explained and led us off.

In a rush, a cloaked figure appeared out of nowhere. It screeched at the sight of us, and I shrieked in horror. I sprinted after Merry to the raft.

When I reached my goal, I gathered my senses and perceived my surroundings. Merry was there. Pippin was there. Sam was there. Frodo...Frodo! A wave of panic washed over me, and my eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Where's Frodo?" I shrieked.

At that very moment Frodo came dashing out of the trees as fast as his little hobbit-legs could carry him. Death was inches behind him. "FRODO!" I cried out in horror at the top of my lungs.

Merry pushed the raft off the dock. Frodo was almost there. "Come on, Frodo!" we all screamed.

At the edge of the dock, Frodo bounded through the air onto the raft, and onto me, knocking me down. The figure at the edge of the dock let out another bloodcurdling screech and flew back into the forest. We had barely escaped again.

I hugged Frodo tightly to me for a few seconds, but then I comprehended what I was doing, blushed a violent shade of pink, and let go, embarrassed. Frodo breathed heavily, still, and he smiled at me, kindly for a moment, but then he turned to Merry and asked, "How far to the nearest crossing?"

Merry answered confidently, "Brandywine Bridge: twenty miles." Then Merry said to me in a mocking voice, "That's the third time today, sis, that you've been fallen on! But you're not griping at Frodo!" he squawked.

I rolled my green eyes and blushed again. I had no excuse. Merry grinned at me, triumphantly, and Frodo gave me a small, playful smile. I blushed even harder, and smirked at the wooden planks of the raft, knowingly.


	6. Flip a Coin-Or a Ring

_**Chapter Six: Flip a Coin-Or a Ring**_

The raft floated eastward, down the Brandywine River, and it eventually began to pour. The dark clouds released thick sheets of icy rain. We were all quivering from cold.

The raft bumped into the dock, and we filed off, huddled beneath our cloaks. Our furry feet sloshed around in the mud and water as we walked. Our hair was soaked despite our cloaks. Still, it continued to pour buckets. Everything was dismal.

Past the gates of Bree, there were many Men moving about the puddled streets in a hurried fashion. They paid no heed to us.

We dashed into the Prancing Pony Inn, slopping mud and water upon the stone floor. The other four hobbits shook the droplets from their hair, while I rung my tresses like a towel.

Frodo stepped up to the bar, still shivering, cleared his throat, and spoke loudly, "Excuse me?"

A beefy man with a kind face looked over the counter at the five of us. "Good evening, young lads, Miss," he nodded to me. "We've got some nice hobbit-sized rooms available tonight. We're always glad to accommodate for the little people, Mr..?" he dropped off.

"Underhill," Frodo answered. "My name is Underhill. We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrivied?"

The barman pondered his mind for a moment, and then exclaimed, "Oh, Gandalf, the wandering wizard!"

Frodo nodded and smiled relieved.

"Yes Gandalf," the barman paused. "I haven't seen him for six months."

My face fell and so did Frodo's. "Gandalf wasn't here? But he told us to come here! He said that he'd meet us here!" I thought, confused and worried as I sat down on a wooden bench in the Inn's common-room. "Was he hurt? Dead? Why wasn't he here?" These questions encircled each other in my mind as Merry brought us drinks.

Merry set his huge mug in front of himself. Pippin's green eyes widened in disbelief, "What is that?" he asked as if in a trance.

Merry explained, smartly, "This, my friend, is a pint."

Pippin gasped. "It comes in pints!..I'm getting one!" With that he shoved his way back through the throng of people, which were twice his size, to the bar.

I shook my head at Merry, disapprovingly. "Meriadoc Brandybuck," I scolded. "You know how Pippin gets when he's had a lot of liquid."

"I know, Spur! He's fine! Let him be. He's just having a bit of fun!" Merry replied.

"Just having a bit of fun, eh?" I mocked. "You were "just having a bit of fun" when you launched that dragon firework, too. Weren't you?"

Merry's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"It's obvious, Merry," I cut him off. "Who else would've been so foolish as to launch it? We're hobbits! We don't do that kind of stuff unless we've been under the wrong influence!"

Merry's eyes dropped to the ground in shame. I realized what I had said and wanted to take it back immediately. "Oh, Merry..," I pleaded, but was cut off by a tabooed name being spoken in a familiar voice. It was Pippin's.

He stood slouched at the bar, pointing to our table with one hand, clutching a half empty mug in the other. "Baggins? Yes, I know a Baggins," he slurred. "Him over there, that's Frodo Baggins!"

Frodo's eyes shot open. He had had them closed, relaxing, twirling the Ring in his fingers. He leaped up and bounded across the room in haste. Everything happened so fast. The next thing I knew, Frodo was pushed to the ground by Pippin's rash behavior, and I saw a glint of gold soar through the air. Frodo reached up to grab it and vanished before my eyes. I gasped along with everyone else. Where was Frodo?

A minute had gone by with no luck in him reappearing, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a man dragging a large bundle up the stairs to the quarters; a hobbit-sized bundle.

"Sam!" I shout-whispered across the room, "I've found him! Grab a weapon and follow."

The four of us snuck up the stairs and burst through the first door we came to. Sure enough, Frodo was crouched on the floor next to the hearth of the bedroom. A dirty, rugged man with long, wavy, brown hair stared back at us, curiously. We probably looked funny: four weak, helpless hobbits with chairs for weapons, trying to fend off a man to help our friend.

To make matters worse, Sam threatened, "Leave him alone, long shanks!"

I felt my eyes roll.

The man said to Sam, "You have a stout heart, young hobbit, but that will not save you from them."


	7. With Larkspurs in Her Hair

_**Chapter Seven: With Larkspurs in her Hair**_

I was lying on the edge of the bed next to Merry. At first the edge of night was inviting. The bed was warm and comforting after sleeping in-between tree-roots the night before. The fire glowing in the hearth was peaceful. The flames licked the cold breath of the coming winter from the air, but soon the room became hot, burning like lava. The red and orange flames morphed into a huge grimacing eye.

"I, see, you..." it taunted evilly.

All of a sudden, I heard the bloodcurdling screech of the hooded figures, which woke me with a start, and I sat straight up. I must've been flailing about in my sleep because the sheets were all thrown off me.

Merry, Pippin, and Sam were all still asleep soundly in happier places, but Frodo sat on the other edge of the bed, staring at me worriedly and confused. He quickly glanced away and turned to Strider. "What are they?"

"They were once Men, but they were poisoned by the power of the One. They are the Ringwraiths: the Nazgul..." Strider's mind moved elsewhere, and he leaped to his feet, abruptly. "We have to leave," he informed.

At dawn we were well away from Bree, but still walking through the forests. We were almost leaving the Shire.

As we had gotten ready to leave this morning, I had gotten several curious glances from Frodo. "What did I do?" I wondered. "I had had a horrible nightmare, but I don't think I cried out. Did he know something I didn't?"

Merry ignored me as usual and hung at the back of the pack with Pippin. They had been grumbling all morning about "skipping second breakfast".

At nightfall, our group had made it to a ruined palace that stood, still proudly, on a hill called Weathertop. I was still pondering my dream when we arrived. What if my dream had meant something?

Strider placed small blades in the four lad's hands and ordered, "Protect your fair-maiden."

I glared at Strider, and Merry snickered. Strider winked at me and ran off. "Good riddens," I thought. "Like I needed protection. I could fight off a Wraith with my eyes closed, if I really wanted to."

Merry snickered again. He imitated a high, girly voice and sang, "Larkspur: fair-maiden of the valley with flowers in her hair!" He bowed, mockingly. "That'll be the day."

I scowled at Merry, and was just about to protest when Frodo spoke from his spot on the ground ten yards away. He was lying on his side, not facing us. "Don't be a fool, Meriadoc. Everyone knows that Larkspur will be the Fair-Maiden of the Meadow with Larkspurs in her hair."

Sam and Pippin grinned at Merry, and Merry scowled in disgust. Although I didn't know if Frodo was joking or not, I stuck my tongue out at Merry, defiantly, and paced over to Frodo's resting place.

I gently placed myself on a rock facing him, observing his resting face. It was definatly different from the face I saw that spring morning so long ago, but it wasn't too different. He was dirtier and a bit older, but that was about it.

I plucked up the courage to say something and opened my mouth to speak, but he spoke before me with his eyes still closed. "You talk in your sleep, you know?"

My eyes widened in shock and heat rose into my cheeks. "What..," I began.

"The eye, I understand. It haunts my dreams, too, but you cringed of also another thing:" his eyes opened. "your 'siblings'." He glanced over in Merry's direction. "'Siblings'," he said again.

I debated to tell Frodo. Had I really spoken of her in my sleep? Something was terribly wrong. Why did I dream of my long-lost sister? I didn't even remember dreaming of her.

No one even knew I had another sibling besides Merry. It was just a piece of information that we both unofficially agreed to not tell anybody. There would be a day when I would tell Frodo about her, but I decided today was not that day.

I shrugged. "It was just a dream, Frodo. I must've just dreamed I had another sibling." I lied, pretending it wasn't a big deal.

Frodo eyed me, suspiciously, but then nodded. "Right, it was just a dream," he confirmed, but behind his mask of agreement, I could tell he knew I was lying. It killed me to do it.

"Well, I better get some rest, and you ought to, too," I recommended, changing the subject.

"Right," Frodo agreed.

I curled up with my head on a rock. I gazed up at the night sky. A million stars blinked back at me like holes poked into black paper. To my left Frodo sighed into sleep. "Goodnight, Larkspur, Fair-Maiden of the Meadow."

I smiled at the diamonds. It may be beautiful up there in the stars, but I decided it was more gorgeous down here, because the stars may have light in darkness, but I have love in hopelessness. I closed my eyes. "Goodnight, Frodo," I whispered back, and then mouthed, "my love."


	8. Shining, Silver Heart

**_Chapter Eight: Shining, Sliver Heart_**

It seemed that only five minutes had passed when I was shaken awake by firm hands. I took in my surroundings. "What's going on?" I yawned sleepily.

The glittering, blue eyes before me were full of worry. "Your idiot brother and my idiot cousin lit up a fire and gave away our cover! You have to get up, Larkspur. You have to hide! They're coming!" Frodo informed me franticly.

I shot up to my feet. Frodo snatched my hand and dragged me along. He led me to a crevice between two large rocks and shoved me in.

"No, Frodo," I resisted. He couldn't expect me to hide while he fought. "I need to fight them! I can't just sit here hoping that you guys are not dead." I fought his grip, but he just pushed me further down into the gap.

"I won't allow you to get hurt, Larkspur. I won't allow you be in pain. Besides, you have no weapon."

I hastily picked up a rock and held it up for him to see. "I will be in more pain if you don't let me go."

"No, Larkspur." Frodo stammered. You're staying hidden, and that is final."

With that he ran to Merry, Pippin, and Sam who were clutching their daggers, nervously. Frodo gave me a stern look, and I sunk into the gap eyeing Frodo, anxiously. They were all surrounded by wraiths in a matter of seconds.

When they came out of the shadows, I felt a searing pain in my neck and chest. I winced. In that split second that I closed my eyes from pain, I saw a gleaming, red eye. I glanced around. Sauron was watching the scene between the Ringwraiths and the Halflings unfold. I could sense him.

It took all my strength just to stay put. The wraiths surrounded my four friends like cornered mice. I heard Sam scream, "Back you devils!" and get his sword knocked out of his grasp.

I bit my fingernails as the wraiths shoved Merry and Pippin aside. I knew all they wanted was Frodo. The look of pure fear on his face was horrifying to behold. It was like having a dull blade being thrust, over and over again, into a deep scab. I gasped as he tripped and dropped his sword. I had to help him! My mind argued with my gut, "No, Frodo told you to stay put."

The wraith towered over him. Frodo fumbled around in his pocket and yanked out the Ring. NO! The devil raised his sword, preparing to plunge it for all its worth at its target. It was aimed for Frodo's heart.

A wave of horrifying hysteria seeped into my soul, leaving me chilled. Frodo was going to be killed, and I was just going to sit and witness it happen. I couldn't sit still anymore. I had to prevent the death of my companion.

Frodo slipped on the Ring just as I had bolted to my feet. I dashed halfway across the stone when all of a sudden, I saw the Nazgul lower its blade. "NOOOO!" I squealed and dove into the wraith. I was too late.

The blade came down just inches away from Frodo's hammering heart, and when it pierced his delicate flesh, he cried out in a tortured cry. It was a sound far worse to hear than a Nazgul scream.

"Frodo!" I screamed as tears flooded my eyes.

Strider lit the Nazgul afire and Frodo reappeared, twisting his face in anguish and clutching at his wound.

I rushed to his side. "Oh, Frodo, my dear," I sobbed soothingly as tears slipped down my cheeks and onto his face that was cradled in my hands. He moaned in horrible pain as I wiped the mingled tears off his face. "You're going to be alright." I assured him. "Everything's going to be okay."

I pried off the hand that was digging into his wound and pressed it to my face, sobbing into his hand.

I felt the presence of Sam, Pippin, and Merry crouched around me, and heard them weeping beside me.

Through heaving sobs, I heard Pippin ask, "Is he going to die?"

The air got knocked out of me as if I had been punched in the stomach. A chill rose through my veins. "Pippin!" I became hysterical with grief, and my voice cracked. "How could you ask such a thing?! Of course Frodo won't die!" I assured myself this more than Pippin. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Frodo did die, though. Even the thought of it was too much to bear, and I sobbed into Frodo's hand even harder. I shook with grief.

Strider picked up the blade in which Frodo was stabbed with and stated, "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." He threw it to the ground in frustration. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."

I felt Frodo's hand being tugged away from mine, and I released my grasp, reluctantly.

We followed Strider down the path from Weathertop, stumbling about, blind with tears. We did the best we could to comfort one another, but when I heard Frodo cry out for Gandalf, if I hadn't already, I completely lost it.


	9. Strong for Too Long

_**Chapter Nine: Strong For Too Long**_

There wasn't much hope for Frodo. We were six days away from Rivendell, and Strider said that Frodo was already passing into the shadow world. He could very well become a wraith. And that was even worse than Frodo dying.

We stopped for a very short rest in Troll Country because Frodo desperately needed something to help him. We actually got to see the trolls Mr. Bilbo witnessed turning to stone! I would've been incredibly interested on a normal day.

Strider gently placed Frodo down on a rock next to the trail. I immediately grabbed his hand. It was limp, senseless, and it felt as if it were ice.

"Strider," I croaked. "He's going even colder."

I saw genuine concern grow into Strider's eyes, and he said, "He's passing into the shadow world. He'll soon become a wraith like them. Sam, come with me to find some herbs to slow the poison.

"Larkspur," he called to me. I looked back to him with teary, sullen eyes. Strider sighed. "He's going to be alright. I promise you." With that he disappeared into the forest.

Frodo's eyes were distant, cloudy, and unseeing. He gasped for air and moaned constantly in pain. He was getting colder and clammier by the second. I wasn't even sure if he was aware of anything except the pain and evil tormenting him. Put all this together with the sliver of hope we had that he would survive, and you'll understand why I was always bawling.

After Strider and Sam left, I sat with Frodo and talked to him. With one hand, I squeezed his hand, as if I was trying to stop the cold from overcoming it. With the other, I ran my fingers through his curly hair and soothed him with gentle words. "Did you notice Old Bilbo's trolls, Frodo? Wouldn't he love to see them now. Remember when we were little and always wanted to go on an adventure like his?"

I began to sing, "'Our journey's keep going, like the brooks of our childhood: rising and flowing. No one is knowing, where we will end up around the bend, but unlike our journey's, brooks come to end.'" I stopped suddenly. A hole formed in my heart as the realization fell over me like a waterfall.

"Well, here we are, Frodo," I sniffed. "This is not what I imagined our adventures would be like though." I confessed and cried into his curls. "I don't want our journey to end like this." I whispered through tears.

Merry and Pippin came over and held me in their arms, comforting me. They wept along with me.

Pippin whispered into my curls, "It's okay to cry, Larky. You're not crying because you're weak. You're crying because you've been strong for too long."

Then Merry whispered, "I know I act like I don't care about you, sis, but I do. I admire your courage. You're the strongest person I know."

We sat there, holding each other until Strider and Sam came back...with a she-elf. What was she doing here?

She placed herself gracefully beside Frodo and sang to him in elvish in a soothing tone. He seemed to relax and catch his breath. His eyes became clearer. "We must take him to my father," she declared and saddled a horse.

Strider spoke to the elf in frantic elvish for a moment, and then with a disheartened expression on his face, he turned to me. "Arwen is going to take Frodo to Rivendell," he explained. "Now just let go of him, Larkspur," he said calmly.

A sudden protectiveness and sullenness grew inside me. "No!" I choked. "I'm not leaving him." I threw myself over Frodo's limp body, sobbing uncontrollably.

There was a humongous emptiness in my heart and stomach. It was as if a part of my heart and soul was being slowly torn away from the rest of me, but some of it was still clinging to the rest: like when you pull apart a piece of pizza: you have to untangle all the little strands of cheese.

"Larkspur," Strider reasoned with me. "This is the only way to save Frodo. Time has run out. He needs medicine now; otherwise he will become a wraith in a matter of hours. Arwen is a gentle elf, and her father is Lord Elrond. She will protect Frodo with her life. I promise you." Arwen smiled gently down at me.

I gave up. A wave of exhaustion swept over me as Strider gingerly picked up Frodo in his arms and set him on the horse. Frodo opened his eyes for a split second and stared straight into my soul with fear and pain.

My eyes grew wide with worry and longing. Then Arwen and Frodo bolted of down the path. I chased them foolishly and yelled after them, "Hold on, Frodo! Be strong!" I gazed after them until they vanished from sight, and I whispered, "I love you," Tears slid down my cheeks like a trickling stream and fell upon my lips so I could not only feel my hope and wishes, but I could even taste their bittersweet flavor on my tongue.


	10. What are These Tears upon your Face?

_**Chapter Ten: What are These Tears upon your Face?**_

Four days had passed since that night at Weathertop. My eyes were itchy, dry, and swollen from crying so much. I must have looked like a mess. My hair was tangled and knotted. My face was streaked with dirt and tears, and my clothes were all torn and wrinkled from thrashing about in my sleep. I honestly didn't care though; I was too terrified for Frodo's sake.

Almost every night, after I cried myself to sleep, I dreamt of Frodo being stabbed, and the eye. Sometimes it was Frodo being stabbed over and over again by the wraith until there was no life left in him. Then I heard a hideous yell of torture from a man.

During the day, I stumbled along, blindly, lost in my fears. I tripped over a tree root, and met the sharp twigs on the ground, weak with grief.

Sam helped me to my feet, and I avoided his eyes. "He's going to be alright, Larkspur." he stated.

"How do you know, Sam?" I snapped, and my voice became shrill. "How do you know he's not dying as we speak? How do you know he's not already a wraith?"

Sam didn't answer. He walked away and stared down at me in pity, like I was a helpless creature.

That night, I dreamed of Weathertop, again. I watched in horror as Frodo's eyes clouded over and turned pale-blue like ice. He lashed out like something was controlling him from the inside, and he grabbed my throat. He screeched in a bloodcurdling voice as he choked me to death, "MY PRECIOUSSSS!" That's when I was shaken awake, sweating and quivering with fear.

My eyes shot open wide in fear for I did not know who had awakened me, but my eyes became accustomed to the darkness that surrounded the forest, and I saw Pippin standing over me. His eyes were filled with concern.

I burst into tears and cried into Pippin's shoulder, shaking. "Oh, Pippin," I sniffed.

Pippin patted my back and shushed me. "Larky, my dear, it kills me to see you this way. You cry all the time and scream out our names in the night, especially Frodo's. It's like you're being murdered. What is it, Larky?" he coaxed. "What is torturing your strong mind?"

I drew in a shaky breath and sighed, "What if he doesn't make it, Pippin? What then? I dream he becomes ensnared in Sauron's trap, every night. He turns against us." My head drooped and I cried into Pippin's shoulder, again. "He turns against me." I sobbed.

Pippin shushed me again, and tilted my head up so I staring into two green truths with no hidden lies. "I know, Larky, but you have forgotten that there is still hope," he confirmed. "Look up. Do you see the stars? They shine bright in the darkest of times. There is proof that there is still hope for Frodo. He is strong."

The stars above Pippin and I winked like a desolate candle flames in a lightless room. I soon fell asleep with Pippin by my side. I dreamed of a million stars. There were so many that they lit up an entire darkened planet.

Five days had mingled by since Weathertop when we made it to Rivendell at night-fall. Lord Elrond greeted us there. As soon as he looked down upon my anxious face he said, "Arwen has told me that a great deal of pain has come from you, little one. What is your name?"

"Larkspur. Larkspur Brandybuck," I replied. "Where is Frodo? Is he alive? Is he alright?!" I trailed off when Elrond held his hand up for silence.

"He is fine, Larkspur, but he is still asleep and hasn't woken since Weathertop. You may go and see him, if you wish."

A layer of weight and dread was lifted off of my shoulders. For the millionth time in a week, I cried, again. They were tears of joy this time, though.

I practically skipped up the stairs to Frodo's quarters. I felt weightless. Frodo was alive!

I frolicked to the green door, and eased it open. The room was bright with the dying sunlight, and it had a splendid view of the greenery of Rivendell from its huge windows. In the far corner of the room, there was a small bed with white sheets. On the bed lay a very young looking lad with his eyes resting peacefully.

I rushed over in a flash to the bedside and grasped Frodo's hand. It was warm. Frodo's cheeks had color in them, and his long eyelashes were resting gently on his cheekbones. The tiniest of smiles was placed on his lips. His dark, curly hair was again soft and shiny, and he was clothed in white garments. The Ring was now on a chain around his neck.

I stroked his hair and touched his fair face. He was real. I was overcome with happiness and relief. I laughed. "I can't believe it!"

It was still some time before Frodo actually woke from his deep slumber, though. Each night, I visited him while he was sleeping. I spoke to him, stroked his hair, sung to him, and held his hand. I didn't believe he was real. Weathertop seemed just like one of my horrible dreams now.

One night, I was singing to him my sister's mysterious song when he shifted and stirred. He sighed and stretched in his wake. My breath caught in my throat. Frodo's eyes slowly blinked open. They were deep sea-blue once more.

His eyes glanced around the room once, and then met mine. They were confused at first, but then they softened into a glow of relief and joy. "Larkspur!" he sighed as I threw my arms around him. Tears sprung up at the corners of my eyes like pricking pins, out of relief.

"Oh, Frodo, my dear," I said as I hugged his warm body to mine.

He released me for a moment and took my face in his soft hands, studying my weathered appearance.

He gazed at my tears with worry and confusion. "What are these tears upon your face, Larkspur? Why do you appear much older to me than when I last saw you?"

I sniffed and tears fell from my green eyes more vigorously. "Because I thought I had lost you." I said. My face fell.

Frodo's gentle, tender fingers wiped away my warm tears of sorrow. Hurt shone in his eyes. He tilted my chin up to see my eyes. "I have not forgotten what you have done, Larks. If you hadn't of dove into that wraith, I wouldn't be speaking to you now."

I began to weep, again at the thought of Frodo dying, but he shushed me and pressed a finger to my lips. I stopped immediately. Promise and truth assured me in his innocent, blue pools.

"Ah, I only said 'I would not be speaking with you'. I would still be here, though, Larks." he explained. He embraced me again. "I shall not really leave you, darling," he promised me into my curls.

At that moment, all the other hobbits came bursting through the door, stumbling over each other. Gandalf appeared in the doorway, behind them.

"Gandalf!" Frodo and I exclaimed simultaneously.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam rushed to the bedside and embraced him. "You've worried us sick, you know that?"

Frodo giggled as he hugged Merry and Pippin. "Well, I'm fine now, Sam." he said. He had no idea what we had been through. How could he, though? He'd been on the verge of something far worse than us. It was unimaginable.

I shook away my thoughts, not wanting to ruin this happy moment and said, "And that's what matters now. We're all safe now, guys," I trailed off and turned to Gandalf who was observing the scene from by the window sill, smoking his pipe. My face twisted into a sad, half-smile, "But not for long, I'm afraid. Right, Gandalf? Why didn't you meet us in Bree?"

He paused, thoughtfully, and then said, "I was delayed."

Frodo opened his mouth in protest, but Gandalf interrupted, "All in good time, Frodo. Right now you are to go to see Lord Elrond with me, you too, Larkspur. We have much more pressing matters to discuss."


	11. Sink into the World of Night

_**Chapter 11: Sink into the World of Night**_

The One Ring was placed on a platform in the middle of the Council's circle-of-races: Elves, Dwarves, Men, Hobbits, and Istari were all tied to this small object. How did it rule over us, so? Why did I want this circle of gold so badly? It summoned me, "Larkspur! Larkspur!" it whispered cunningly. My lip curled. The Ring is mine! Nobody else can touch it!

Lord Elrond cleared his throat, and I was able to wrench my eyes from the Ring's evil bonds. I noticed that my nails had dug into the chair's arms and made marks from gripping it so tightly. "The Ring must be destroyed in the Cracks of Doom, where it was forged," Elrond explained. "But who shall take it into Mordor?"

A man from Gondor named Boromir sighed. He had shown earlier that he was extremely vulnerable to the power of the One. "One does not simply walk into Mordor," he disagreed. "The Great Eye is ever watchful."

The room erupted into a heated argument, which turned into an outburst. All of this over a silly ring. I looked upon the quarrel with disgust. "This is madness!" I told Frodo, but he wasn't listening.

Frodo had clearly had enough of the fighting and rose. It appeared to me that he was going to leave to search for a quiet place to clear his mind, but instead he stood and announced, "I will take it!"

"What?!" I exclaimed, surprised. "No, Frodo, NO!" How could he do this after all he had been through? Was he crazy?!

The argument dispersed and everyone's ears turned to Frodo. "I will take the Ring to Mordor!" he proclaimed. "Though, I know not the way."

I couldn't believe him. He was going to be killed. What was he thinking? I would be devastated if I lost him again, so I declared, "Well, if you're going, I'm going too." I stood my ground next to him, defiantly. "There's no way you're going to leave me here."

Something worse than worry grew in Frodo's deep eyes: at the time, I didn't realize what it was, but I knew later that it was terror, dark and unfathomable. "No, Larkspur," he commanded. "I won't let you go..,"

"Frodo, I know why you don't want me to go, and that's why I have to go," I reasoned. "Don't you see? It's like I said before, 'I'll be in more pain if I don't go'."

I saw Frodo give in, for now. I tried to hide the triumph from my face as I stood at Frodo's side.

Aragorn-or Strider as we called him before-came forward and offered his service to Frodo. As did Gimli, a dwarf, Legolas, an elf from Mirkwood, Boromir, and Gandalf, as well.

All of a sudden, Sam came bolting out of the bushes nearby and declared, "I won't go anywhere without Larkspur and Frodo."

Then Merry and Pippin ran out from behind two nearby columns.

"Oi! We're coming, too!" Merry exclaimed. "You think I'd let my little sis go on a quest, alone?" He shot me a grin. I glared back at him.

"Besides," Pippin explained. "You need people of intelligence on this sort of mission..,quest..,thing!"

Merry snorted and muttered, "Well, that rules you out, Pip!" Then, Merry grunted in pain, for Pippin had taken a kick to his shin.

Lord Elrond just ignored their antics. "Ten companions," he observed. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Alright," Pippin replied. Then, with an innocent curiosity on his face he asked, "Where are we going?" My eyes rolled in disbelief at his ignorance. Merry hit his palm to his face.

Back in my room, which I was now sharing with all of the hobbits, I began to pack my belongings for the long journey to Mordor, which I most likely wouldn't be returning from. I only had a few things. I packed mostly the essentials I knew I would need: clothes, food, and water.

I had just about finished packing when I realized I didn't have any sort of weapon. I didn't even know what kind of weapon would be suitable for me.

The door to the bedroom creaked open at that moment. Frodo appeared, clutching at the chain around his neck, nervously.

I smiled at him as I finished folding the rest of my clothes into my bag. Frodo yanked out his traveling bag and began stuffing articles of clothing into it, carefully. "I didn't want you going, you know?" he stated. "You could've stayed here with the Elves until we came back. You'd be safe here."

I plopped down onto my bed, watching Frodo's brisk, graceful movements. "I told you I wouldn't have been able to withstand the not knowing. Besides, you didn't have to go either. You chose to because you thought it was your duty. Well, I feel as if coming along, fighting off evil, and making sure my friends are protected is mine." I affirmed and crossed my arms, defiantly.

Frodo glanced up from his packing and smirked at me. "You are so stubborn, you know that, Larks?" he teased.

I grinned and a flush broke out across my face. "And you're not?" I retorted. "Oh, by the way," I added. "Have you gone to see Bilbo, today? He wanted to see you."

"Yes, I just went. He gave me that." Frodo gestured to a brown parcel lying on his bed.

I carefully unwrapped the crinkled wrappings. A curved blade sat on top of a shiny mail jacket. My eyes widened in wonder. I grabbed the sword and unsheathed it, so I could see the blade.

"Uncle Bilbo says it glows blue when orcs or goblins are about, so it should be pretty handy. And the mail," he nodded to it. "That's mirthril."

I gingerly picked up the mail and held it up to my line of sight. "Oh, it's beautiful," I gasped. "Where ever did he get it? Was it from Thorin?!" I exclaimed, excitedly.

"Yes I do believe it was," Frodo confirmed.

I chuckled and placed the coat back into its wrappings. "That old Bilbo is sure full of surprises!"

As soon as I spoke, Frodo's eyes grew distant, and he reached for the chain about his neck. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, he is."

I slipped into nightmares again that night, nightmares of the eye and Weathertop, mostly, but a new segment had aroused: there was a person clad in armor clutching a sword. They were battling a Ringwraith. Then everything went black as if I had fallen into a dark, bottomless pit. There was a horrifying Nazgul scream, and on top of that was the same shout of emotional anguish from a man that was in my dream a few nights before.

The scene faded back to Weathertop, though, and the shout mingled in with Frodo's scream of torturous agony.

I jerked awake as if I had been shocked by a bolt of lightning. The sheets were twisted in knots. I had to steady my breathing and gather my surroundings. Sticky sweat was trickling down my forehead. I was hot like I had been running a temperature; I finally realized that it had all been a horrible dream rather than a torturous reality. Well, most of it.

The other Hobbits were sound asleep, but Frodo was placed on the edge of my bed, his eyes full of guilt and concern. He stared deep into the depths of my exposed eyes. "Pippin told me what happened when I was gone." he explained, assertively. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I took a deep, shaky breath and clarified, "Because I didn't want you worrying about me. You've got much more important things to worry about than a few bad dreams," I lied.

"No, Larkspur, it wasn't just a couple of bad dreams was it? You're not telling me something. Something is terribly wrong."

Tears started spilling down my fiery cheeks and I turned my head away, not wanting him to see I was crying. "Look at me, Larks." He moved my hair away from my eyes and cupped my face in his hands so I was gazing, spellbound, into the depths of his glittering soul. "Nothing is more important to me than you. You can tell me anything, okay?"

I nodded and choked on my tears.

"Come here." Frodo outstretched his arms, and I collapsed into them, sobbing. "Shhh," he soothed as he rocked me back and forth. As he did, he muttered a single word over and over, again in Elvish. He ran his fingers through my hair, and a chill ran up and down my spine. He held me close and sang an old Elvish lullaby as he stroked my hair:

_"Sink into the world of night, _  
_Slip away from journey's plight, _  
_Silver stars will watch o'er you, _  
_Rest your golden angel hue, _  
_Forget about the seasons past _  
_Close your eyes, _  
_Sleep at last." _

Relaxed by Frodo's soothing Elvish word, and soothed by his gentle singing and comforting rocking, I drifted into a fathomless slumber in Frodo's protective arms.


	12. Nothing of the Real World

**_Chapter 12: Nothing of the Real World_**

I awoke the next morning to a sunlit room, and a gentle breeze swaying in the trees. All the other beds were empty. I stretched and sat up in bed. Frodo had apparently laid me down last night and tucked me in. I smiled to myself at the thought. Frodo was such a kind, gentle Hobbit; even when he was in the darkest of hours, he still would be there to comfort a friend.

I was famished for breakfast by the time I was done pondering in my thoughts, so I slid my feet out onto the cold, stone floor. When I did so, the comforter shifted and a slip of paper fell off the bed, along with a flower.

I bent over and frowned at the paper and flower. The flower was a Larkspur: how quaint. And the slip of paper was covered in a neat, rounded handwriting in green ink. It read:

**_"Dear Larkspur, _**

**_Last night in your dream, I heard you speak of a girl: a sister, you called her. I know something is troubling you, and it's not just me. I feel as if I haven't been told something I should have been told long ago. I'll be on the highest overlook. _**

**_-Frodo"_**

At last, after all those years of not speaking of my sister, Frodo had figured it out. He had to be told something. I didn't ever believe he would find out this way, though.

I made my way downstairs for a bite to eat before going to see Frodo. I wasn't surprised to find Merry, Pippin, and Sam still shoveling heapings of food into their faces when I arrived. I shot them a look of disgust.

"Ah!" Merry exclaimed around a mouth-full of bread. "The sleeping beauty has awoken!"

Sam and Pippin giggled as I bit into a slice of toast.

"I can see it now," Merry joked. "Larkspur, sleeping beauty, fair maiden of the meadow, with Larkspurs in her hair, or so Frodo says." He grinned ornerly at me.

I blushed pink and reached for an apple so he wouldn't see my cheeks. "Quit being so childish, Merry." I scolded as I bit into the apple.

"Childish?" Merry shifted in his seat. "No, Spur, I wouldn't dream of it. I was only observing how you've been acting around Frodo, lately. You've blushed so much I am surprised that your face isn't stained red," he teased, and Pippin snickered. "And last night for example," I stopped chewing on the crispness for a moment and really listened to what Merry was getting at. "You cried your eyes out on his shoulder after having nightmares. That's the 1,000th bucket of water you've cried over him this past week. One would think that somebody might _care_ for someone," Merry cooed, cheekily. Pippin stopped laughing, abruptly. It was the calm before the storm, or the explosion, in my case.

I whirled to greet Merry's ginning face with a piercing bitterness. "And you don't, Meridoc Brandybuck?" I snapped. "Frodo's my best friend and he could have **_died_** or worse! What if Pippin was in Frodo's place? Then would you understand what I have lived through?!"

Merry struggled with this thought for a long time. His confused expression made bile-anger flare up inside of me, bubbling and hot. I glowered back at him. "No, you wouldn't, would you, Merry? All your life has been nothing, but a game to you!" I desperately tried to hold my tongue, but the words kept shooting out of my mouth like razor-sharp arrows. "You've been running around with a Took, while I was busy trying to get over my sister's parting! Frodo was my only friend during that time! Do you know what I went through?! You know nothing of the really world, Merry!" I spat acid words."You have no idea what it is like to be left completely alone with nothing and have grief take over your life!"

Merry leaped out of his chair. He towered over me and stared straight into my eyes, cold and hard, and shouted, "At least you have _hope_ that you still have a family! **My parents are dead**!" His voice cracked. He winced at the word and stood there glaring, through tears, with a fiery anger before storming out of the kitchen.

I released my breath, surprised and dumbstruck at what had just unfolded. I shuddered, and for no reason at all, tears dripped down my face. I couldn't hold them. I was unaware of Sam and Pippin still sitting there, gaping wide. I was too shocked at what I had just witnessed in Merry's eyes. I dashed out of the kitchen, toward the highest overlook. I had seen the anger in Merry's eyes, yes, but that wasn't what had shocked me like being plunged into icy water. It was, that behind all the flames of anger in his eyes, I saw two things I never thought I would ever see in Merry's laughing eyes: hurt and grief.


	13. Sister from another Mister

_**Chapter 13: Sister from another Mister**_

I wiped at my teary eyes as I reached the last flight of stairs and came onto the terrace. Across the stretch, Frodo was gazing upon Rivendell's breathtaking environment from a cushioned bench on the edge of the beautiful abyss. His eyes were deep in thought.

He sensed my approach and twisted his body to give a smile to the expression on my face, but his smile faded when he saw that my eyes were red and swollen and my expression was of hurt, not happiness. I smiled half-heartedly and tried to bring his light back, but it wouldn't return. The horizons became worried.

He rose and hastily rushed over to me. "What is it, Larkspur? Not again. You didn't have another nightmare, did you?" he prodded.

"No, no, none of that," I sighed and stared out upon the magically green trees, covered with golden-yellow light. "It seems Merry and I have had a little, er..." I paused. "Dispute.

Surprise was clear on Frodo's face. "All these tears wasted on Merry and me, Larkspur? I won't stand for it. Do not despair over us. By the time we're finished, you keep this up, you won't have any tears left." he joked the same way Merry had, and I frowned. "But really, Larks," he became serious. "What is this all about, you fighting with Merry and such?"

I sighed and sadly smiled up at Frodo's eyes. They ate at my soul as if desperately trying to read my mind, but they were blurred with worry and concern. "Unfortunately, Frodo, my argument with Merry is somewhat connected with the real reason that I came up here. Take a seat. You asked, and I shall now tell you why I am troubled."

Frodo blinked, confused and sat upon the red cushions with me by his side.

I relaxed, "I suppose I should just start at the very beginning. Yes, that would be a very good place to start." I decided. I breathed in a deep, staggered breath, stared straight into Frodo's blue hues, and confessed, "I am not a Brandybuck."

Frodo's brow furrowed. "Well, if you're not a Brandybuck, than who are you?"

I laughed, mockingly inside my mind. Frodo thought it was that easy. I haven't even begun yet. I shrugged. "I don't know? All I know of my real family is my sister, who I supposedly talked about in my sleep. No one else knows of her existence except Merry, me, and now, you. The Brandybuck's adopted her and me when we were very young, and then, my sister left." I explained. "And you know the rest: Merry's parent's drowned, Merry and I were left to fend for ourselves, and I met a gentle, young hobbit in the forest one day when I was pondering about my sister."

Frodo struggled to comprehend all this. "So, Merry's not really your brother?"

"Not by blood."

Frodo looked up at me, hurt. "Why didn't you tell me this the day we met, Larkspur? And-and what were you two just fighting about? You haven't explained that yet."

I sighed. "Well, how do I put this? Merry was always a troublemaker. There's no denying that. So, he never truly understood me. While I had a very bad childhood, full of confusion and grief, Merry was off making mischief, so I had a big responsiblity at a very young age.

"Just now, he was making fun of me, I snapped and said he knew nothing of the world of grief, and he reminded me that his parents were dead and ran off."

Frodo flinched at the word dead. He was, again, in some far off, distant place in his thoughts. He drew in a shaky breath. "Larkspur," he whispered. His eyes gazed sullenly back into my green. "I had no idea that when I first met you, you were in so much pain and misunderstanding. I am so sorry." He stretched his hand out to reach for mine and carefully placed his on top of mine. He squeezed, reassuringly, just as he had done when we saw the Elves leaving for the Grey Havens. That seemed so long ago. We had changed everything since that day.

I shrugged. "It's okay, Frodo. It was so long ago. I didn't even know her name. Merry was just careless, that's all. I shouldn't have let him get to me."

A small, knowing smirk grew on my face when I glanced at his hand on mine and saw that he was attempting to smooth out the wrinkles on the back of my hand. My eyes flickered up to his. "So, are you ready for the next step in our adventures?"


	14. We Cannot Get Out

_**Chapter 14: We Cannot get Out...**_

In the dark lake water, I saw my reflection staring back at me. I was thinner and appeared older and more worn out than I had last saw me. I had a few stress lines here and there, but then again, so did everyone else. My dark, curly, rope-like locks were longer as well for they almost reached the end of my spine. My eyes were still shone the same, green as always.

I glanced up and saw Gandalf pacing the glittering doorway, muttering in elvish under his breath. It was a chilling place. The lake water whispered and lapped at the rough rocks on the edge of the lake. We had been here for a good two hours. At least it was better than the mountain pass.

Bitter cold had surrounded all ten of us. We struggled to push through the packed snow, while the icy wind whipped and ripped cold onto our numbed cheeks like a thousand tiny needles, and it sneaked into our cloaks and chilled our bones like death's breath, but then we turned around because it was getting to difficult to go forward in the snow for Saruman was creating the storm. We agreed to go through the Mines of Moria, and now Gandalf was attempting to pass its gates. He couldn't figure out the password.

Boromir sat slumped nearby, scrapping at a rock with his rusty dagger. On the mountain pass, he had acted desperate when he came near the Ring, again. He had a suspicious personality. He was our weakness, I could tell.

Aragorn warned Pippin, who was throwing rocks into the black water's depths, not to stir it again. Merry sat by his side and caught my gaze. I saw his eyes flash with a strained hurt, and then flicker away in red anger. He was obviously still upset with me and hadn't said a word since our fight in Rivendell. I just got nasty looks shot at me, daily. Pippin and Sam glanced upon me with pity, when they felt the chains of tension tied between us tug.

Beside me, Frodo stood. He paced over to Gandalf, who had just given up in a frustrated wrath. "Speak, Friend, and enter" he repeated. "Gandalf, what's the elvish word for friend?"

Gandalf's eyes lit up. _"Mellon," _he said slowly.

Rock and dust crumbled away as the door slid open, and a passageway appeared. I beamed at Frodo as he watched the passage reveal itself, triumphantly. He was brilliant. Merry sighed and scowled in disgust at me. I threw him a dirty look.

We all filed into the mine, cautiously. It was dank and dark and had a slight moldy smell inside of it.

All of a sudden, Frodo, who stood beside me, was jerked off of his feet and yanked back out through the doorway. A slimy tentacle was attempting to pull him into the depths of the murky lake. He screamed in fear and cried out.

A chill of terror tickled the hairs on the back of my neck and froze them in place. "FRODO!" I yelled as I yanked out my elvish blade that Arwen had given to me when we parted from Rivendell. I bounded in one leap to Frodo's side and hacked away at the tentacles, which were intertwined with his legs.

With one last, sharp whack of my blade, the tentacles recoiled, and Frodo scrambled to his feet. We both dove into the mine's entrance just as it collapsed into a barricade of rocks behind us.

Frodo and I supported each other as we caught our breath, and Gandalf spoke through the pitch black. "Now we have no choice, but to go forward. It's a four day's journey to the other side. Let us pray our passing shall go unnoticed."

A long while had gone past when we came to a halt so Gandalf could gather his memory of Moria. Frodo and I placed ourselves on a rock together and stared into the abyss of the mines. My mind was tired, and my eyes felt like they were being pulled down by strings. My eyes started to sink. Suddenly, Frodo gasped and startled me.

He ran to Gandalf's side. "There's something down there," he stammered. I gazed over the edge and saw a pair of luminescent, pale-blue eyes staring straight back at me. My stomach clenched.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf explained.

"Oh that little wretch!" I exclaimed in annoyance. The idea of Gollum riding on our trail riled a pot of boiling frustration inside of me. "He's the one who started this whole mess! It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance!"

"Pity?" Gandalf grew confused. "Why it was pity that steadied dear Bilbo's hand."

Frodo sighed and became distant. "I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had ever happened." He spoke in a sullen, innocent tone. I felt terribly sorry for him. None of us had any idea, or could even possibly imagine, how torturous it must be to lug around that Ring. It probably tried to screw up his mind, constantly. What a burden it must be.

"So do all who live to see such times," Gandalf sympathized, wisely. "But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." He smiled sadly at Frodo and glanced up. "Oh, it's that way!" he realized.

We continued our path through one of the three tunnels that lay before us. My mind dwelt over Gandalf's wise words. That's when I first realized, like a shot through my stomach, that Frodo's mind was convinced that he most likely would not ever be going back to the Shire.

I snuck a glance at him over my shoulder, my face a mask of distress. He was staring at his feet. There was a very slight stumble in his feet as if he were weary, and I knew that he was lost in his thoughts as well. How did he live with this knowledge? What was it like to realize that there was no going back, and the end was approaching; that each step he took was a step he would never retrace again? Yet, he still managed to keep going on and on like a steady heartbeat, never slowing or stopping, never getting tired. Even if Frodo was to go back to the Shire, would he still be the young, laughing, innocent hobbit I once knew? What if we never made it back?

We halted abruptly, but I kept treading on, lost in my mind. I bumped into Merry. He turned and glared back at me. "Sorry," I muttered. He was definitely still upset with me, but I made a mental note to apologize to him later.

We were in what looked to be once, a grand room. Dusty, crumbly pillars lined the walls and cobwebs were strung about the entire area of the room like icicles. In the center, there was a gray, stone slab, in which Gimli was wailing over. I adjusted my eyes and saw that there was a dead dwarf lying on it. There were others scattered about the room.

Gandalf paced, hastily over to the slab. His eyes grew sorrowful when he traced the inscription on the tomb. "Oh, Balin," he whimpered.

Then I realized, "Balin went with Bilbo and Thorin to the Lonely Mountain!" I exclaimed with a gasp of wonder.

Gimli sobbed, "Yes, Larkspur, and now he's dead." He cried massive tears into his dirty, red beard.

Gandalf gingerly grasped a dusty book that a dwarf sitting beside was clutching to. He flipped through its mildew pages. When he came to the last entry, he squinted at the scrawl and read, "We have barred the second gates. We cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums drum in the deep. We cannot get out. The shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out..."

All the hobbits glanced around the creepy space as he spilled the book's contents. Then, Gandalf read the last line written: "We cannot get out." I heard Sam whimper.

A bone-shattering crashing sound thundered from the darkest, eeriest corner of the haunting room. I nearly jumped out of my skin and had a heart-attack at the same time. Pippin had bumped into a rotting dwarf and sent it tumbling down into a dark well behind it. Pippin winced as the dry bones scraped the sides of the rocky, rough pit like nails on a chalkboard.

Gandalf glared, menacingly at his guilt face and nearly slammed the book shut on his tiny nose. I smirked at his clumsiness. "Fool of a Took!" exclaimed Gandalf. "Why didn't you throw yourself in and rid us of your stupidity?!"

Only seconds after Gandalf had spoken, there was an enormous thump that echoed off the cave's walls. There was another shaky thump. Boromir explained, "They have a cave-troll!"

Just seconds after Frodo had drawn his blue, glowing blade, orcs flooded into the chamber. A bloody battle broke out between the Fellowship, the orcs, and the troll. As soon as I had unsheathed my tiny blade, I had killed about three orcs, but then the grotesque cave-troll eyed, and I scrambled behind a nearby pillar.

The reek of its foul breath burned at my mouth and nostrils as the troll got distracted and turned away from me. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I snuck a peak around the corner of the dusty pillar. What I saw ripped my soul from my body.

The disgusting, foul cave-troll, with its moldy breath, had its rusty stake riveted into Frodo's weak shoulder. I saw Frodo's face grimacing from the pain. He grew as pale as a ghost like all the color had been drained from his body through a straw, and his eyes searched for a beacon of life to hold onto. The blue brooks of my childhood met the forests of the Shire, and all of my pain, weakness, and anger frothed up inside of me like air bubbles in water. It boiled out of my ears, nose, mouth, and eyes, in a different form though. It was courage; bravery.

"NOOOOOO!" I screamed shrilly as I barreled my body into the space that separated Frodo and the troll. I clasped both of my hands to my blade, narrowed my eyes at the wretched beast, and threatened in the most menacing tone I could muster while still shaking with grief and anger, "DON"T. YOU.** TOUCH HIM!"**

The troll snickered evilly, taunting me, and twisted the stake inside Frodo so I could hear his fragile bones cracking. Frodo's jaw dropped as he lurched in agony.

**"NO!"** I shrieked shrilly in horror. I took an aggressive swing at the beast's hairy stomach. It cackled again. Then, it yanked its stake out of Frodo's heaving chest and took it to its rough shoulder like a wooden club.

All my fear and nerves left my body like someone had poked a hole in me with a needle. I swung madly at the troll's huge feet, but it shoved me away with its smelly toes, and then, it swung the stake at me like it was playing golf (it was invented by the Old Took, you know). I ducked just in time. My hair was blown by the wind from the strike, and I could feel the momentum vibrating in my ears.

While the troll was gathering its balance, I quickly thrust my sword down on its toe with all the strength and willpower I had built up inside of me. A gurgling cry erupted from the nasty creature. It swung down in its rage at my head, but I dived aside and clambered up the stake onto the beast's scaly shoulders. When I was firmly mounted, I clenched the troll's neck with my arms and plunged my dagger into its neck again and again with a fiery fury. The troll flailed about at its neck. Black colored blood oozed onto my hands and arms from the evil creature, but I didn't care in my wrath. Soon the beast stood motionless and collapsed onto its side. Only then did I release my death-grip.

I staggered to my feet, covered from head to toe in blood that wasn't mine. Pippin, Merry, Sam, Gimli, and Legolas stared at me with their mouths open in awe. Boromir smirked at their expressions. Aragorn had Frodo wrapped in his arms, and Gandalf was exchanging an important piece of information with him, for Aragorn's eyes grew wide with astonishment. He glanced at me.

All of a sudden, there was a tremendous thump that shook the cavern walls. "To the bridge. Now, _fly_!" Gandalf ordered with terror in his eyes.

Aragorn sprinted after Gandalf with Frodo's limp body still in his arms, and I bolted after Aragorn. No matter what, I had to get to Frodo. I didn't know how I would react to his death. My childhood memories of him flashed before my eyes. I tried desperately to block them out, but they flowed like the tears in my eyes: fast and unending; the time he had fallen out of the party tree and broken his arm because I was teasing him. The was the time we threw tomatoes at the Old Gaffer's windows. Bilbo had beaten us good for that. Then, there was the night during the summer when we laid in the fields cuddled together, gazing at the stars all night.

New tears sprung up at my eyes, and I blinked back into reality. "Aragorn!" I shouted as I dashed at his heels. "Is he..?" I trailed off into tears. I couldn't bear to say it.

"No," Aragorn huffed. "He's just unconscious right now. He had that mirthril on, you know?"

I breathed a gigantic sigh of relief. Bless his soul; he had that mirthril Old Bilbo had given him on. I had forgotten all about it in the confusion. For a while I had thought all was lost.

In Aragorn's arms, Frodo winced as if he was having a nightmare. I watched his expressions as I ran through the passageways at Aragorn's heels. He grimaced and furrowed his brow. Then he twisted and turned, and he mumbled something inaudiable. I held my breath and tried to listen to him over the pursuer's thundering footsteps. He whined quietly, "Meldamiriel..,Meldamiriel..."

I squinted my eyes, confused. "Meldamiriel" I could tell was an elvish word, but I hadn't the slightest clue what it meant.

Frodo jerked awake in shock and nearly tumbled out of Aragorn's arms. He shouted again, _"Meldamiriel!"_ He breathed hard, and there was a frightened look in his eyes. I grabbed his hand and squeezed, hard. He gave me a look of distress; something had happened, and he had a nightmare. What was wrong?


	15. Penetration of Emotion

_**Chapter 15: Penetration of Emotion**_

Gandalf herded us across the Bridge of Khazad Dum. The humongous, monstrous beast, with horns like a bull, was biting at our tails. Gandalf halted in the center of the bridge and ordered, "You shall not pass!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried shrilly.

Gandalf repeated the command in a powerful, almighty voice. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" The Balrog inched across the bridge, but the stone beneath him crumbled, and he tumbled into the dark pit.

Gandalf turned to us and smirked, triumphantly. Just then, the Balrog's fiery whip coiled itself around Gandalf's ankle, and he began to be dragged into the abyss with the Balrog. I watched in horror as Gandalf uttered, "Fly you fools," and disappeared from sight.

"Nooo!" Frodo and I screamed in disbelief. We both struggled from Aragorn's firm grasp, but he kept a strong hold on us both and dragged us along.

I fought and screamed and sobbed all at the same time as Aragorn carried us out into the sunlight. I couldn't imagine it. Gandalf, the wizard, was gone; defeated by the Balrog. My mind broke down as I beat at Aragorn's shoulder in frustration and sobbed, unable to fathom our journey without Gandalf.

I was so emotionally beat up from that day that I wiped out on the rocks of the Misty Mountains within five minutes of resting. I dreamed of darkness.

When I awoke, I lifted my throbbing head up off of Legolas's shoulder, dazed from the blinding sun. It shone through the immense trees, so bright it was nauseating.

"Where are we?" My voice croaked as I questioned Legolas.

"We have just arrived in Lothlorien," he explained as he swung me down to the wooded floor. I staggered to my feet, rubbing at my eyes which were tired and swollen. "Celborn is taking us to see Lady Galadriel."

Out of the shadows of the trees, Galadriel waltzed, gracefully, like she was floating on silk. Her long, wavy hair glimmered down her back, and her beautiful face glistened with a glowing haze. My mouth dropped in awe, and I nearly lost my balance. We all stood, enchanted by her Elven beauty; you could inhale it like a sweet fragrance. Her voice was clear and so soothing that it could send chills down your spine. "You carry a great burden with you," she pruned. "A dangerous power." Her eyes flashed at Frodo.

Aragorn stepped forward. "Yes, My Lady. We only seek refuge for a short period of time, and then, we'll be on our way." he proposed.

Galadriel answered him without taking her eyes off of Frodo and me. "Very well," she agreed. "Celborn, see to that the Fellowship has a place to rest," Galadriel ordered and was gone.

While Celborn led as to our resting area, I reflected on what had happened before I collapsed from exhaustion: first off, Gandalf had fallen, and that was why I felt so destroyed. I had defeated a troll. Frodo had almost died, again, and on top of all that, Merry was upset with me, still. The reason he was angry with me seemed to be so silly after all that had occurred. I couldn't bear it anymore.

I rotated around to greet the sullen faces of my four, weathered friends. Sam appeared distressed, as his hair was matted and tangled in several spots. He was sniffing a little. Pippin's teary, green eyes contradicted the red wells that had formed on his cheekbones, and he was still bawling pools of water as he staggered along. Merry's lower lip was pouting a bit. His face was misted as well. But Frodo was the worst of them all: his eyes were a pale, murky blue as they had been when he was in pain on Weathertop. They were empty. Nothing, but grief was upon his face; he was unseeing. He dragged his feet along without purpose.

Seeing my best friends in this deplorable state convinced my tear ducts to brim up with pity, sorrow, and sympathy. I barreled to them and wrapped my arms tightly around their shaking backs like it would protect them from the sadness that ceased to penetrate our thought and emotions.

"I am so sorry," I apologized, sincerely. "All of you. Pippin and Sam, I'm sorry for dragging you into my brother's and my dispute. Merry, I'm sorry for upsetting you. It's not fair that you had to suffer so harshly for only teasing me. I was just so frustrated with..."

"Spur, it's okay. I shouldn't have been bothering you with such a touchy subject like that. You only gave me a taste of my own medicine," Merry replied.

"I should've held my tongue, though," I cried.

"We encouraged your wrath, Larky," Pippin confessed. "We were laughing."

"We're the ones who should be apologizing," Sam said.

I smiled at Sam. He was always a respectable hobbit, who never blamed anything on anyone. I hugged him, and then hugged Pippin. I saw a warm blush creep onto Pippin's already red cheeks when I released him.

Merry nearly strangled me, his embrace was so tight, and I practically strangled him. We hadn't held each other in so long. I realized that I had missed holding onto him when I let go.

I then affronted Frodo. His sullen, pale pools, that were acknowledging the ground, made even more tears stream down onto my cold cheeks. I couldn't hold myself in. I threw my protecting arms about his neck, and squeezed my body to his, so tightly I felt as if we would be stuck together forever. I cradled his curly head with my finger tips, and buried my face into his tangled locks. "I'm so sorry, Frodo, about everything; about Weathertop, my dreams, the troll, about Gandalf, and about this stupid Ring. Why must it torture you so?" I sniffed. "Why must you be forced to bear it?"

Frodo's fragile body rose and fell, slowly against my shivers. After a few moments, he replied, "Because I am bound to it, Larkspur. It's my burden that I choose to take, so that someday, even though it seems impossible or so far away, someone will be able to live the happiest life imaginable. They will not have to worry about the threats of Middle Earth because there won't be any. They will live happily in peace, have their children grow up and become old, and finally, they will leave to the sea, knowing that all will be well, for there is no trouble, anymore, for the Ring was destroyed." He cried into the curly hair, next to my neck. "That's the life I wanted you to live, Larkspur," he explained. "That's why I didn't want you to come, Meldamiriel."


	16. Weight of Two Worlds

**_Chapter 16: Weight of Two Worlds_**

I was jerked awake from yet another nightmare by music. The Elves, in their melodic tones, were humming my sister's song as they gracefully floated in the glowing moonlight. I crawled to my feet, wearily. I noticed with a start that Lady Galadriel, glowing like a brilliant star, was observing me from over a glowing basin. She smiled at me as I sleepily staggered to stand in her presence.

"Larkspur," she beamed. "I know you have traveled far and seen many unsettling things, especially for a young hobbit like yourself, but I must give you the opportunity to look into this mirror. What it shows is what could happen in the near future. Half the things in the mirror that you will witness will become realities, but you determine which events become reality." She gestured to the mirror, and I took an unsure step forward.

When I reached the mirror, the darkness swallowed me, whole. Even though the sparkling lights of Lothlorien shined solemnly, the evil shadows lurking in my imagination eroded my tired mind. The eye stalked me. "Meldamiriel," it whispered, taunting me. The crackling voice echoed as if Sauron was all around me in different hiding places.

In a flash of white light, I was observing the battle I had seen a glimpse of before, in my previous dreams: the struggle between a Nazgul and a warrior. Then to my horror, I saw the Shire, my only home, burning. The trees like torches and the fields barren. The scene faded, and I saw Merry releasing a blade as if it was on fire and shriek in anguish. Pippin, with the sullenest, meaningful face I could ever imagine, sang to the floor and wept. Merry, with an odd glint in his eyes, smiled happily at a lady with long, blonde hair. My stomach clenched tight when Frodo lurched at me with a possessed snarl and began choking the life out of me, squeezing my vocal chords as he howled, "My Precious! Meldamiriel is My Precious!" Then, I saw him lying on rocks, gasping for air. He clutched at the gold chain about his neck, and his pale, cloudy eyes pierced at nothing. "Meldamiriel," he choked. "You can take away my soul, but you'll never take away her! Meldamiriel!" he pleaded to nothing. "I need you!" I watched in horror as he collapsed into the fires of Mount Doom. Everything went black. Then, the warrior threw off their helmet. Curly, Blonde locks tumbled out. She fell to the ground, unmoving. A man came sprinting across the battle field, screaming in terror. It was the same scream I had heard in my previous dreams. I witnessed Merry lying on the ground, a single tear sliding down his pale cheek. The man shrieked and cradled the girl's blonde head. Her face came into view, lifeless. My blood froze.

The next thing I knew, I was choking up water from the mirror, and I came up from the vision. Sputtering, I collapsed to the leafy ground on my hands and knees, coughing the sacred water out of my wheezing lungs. Galadriel's face pinched at my struggling. "That girl," I gasped in realization. "She, she, s-she my sister..."

Galadriel smiled slowly. "Yes," she crooned. "And the man was your brother."

My jaw dropped in astonishment. "W-what? I, I have a brother? But how come I never saw him? Why did I only see my sister when I was young? Why?.."

Galadriel's raised palm cut me off. She smiled, "Larkspur, how do you think your sister was taken away from you? Your brother took her. He would have taken you, too if he hadn't believed you needed to be raised in the Shire, because you were a hobbit and would've been involved in matters bigger than yourself, if you went. You were a hobbit, not a women after all."

My brow furrowed. I asked, "So, my sister and brother weren't hobbits?"

"No," replied Galadriel. "They were of the race of men, but they both had a little hobbit blood in them, just like you have men blood in you. Your father married a hobbit. That's all I will reveal to you at the moment. The rest you must find out on your own."

"But," I started.

"All in good time, Larkspur. Now that you have gazed into the mirror, I should inform you that in the near future, you will have a difficult decision to make. A choice between finding out more about your past, or the choice to help him." She gestured to the wooden tree roots where Frodo was dreaming.

I frowned in pity at his shrunken stature. He was smaller and vulnerable appearing, like a tiny rag doll that the hobbit children would play with. He shook and shivered and flinched every so often in his sleep. He was almost helpless.

On the other hand, there was my long lost sister and brother. Who were they? What were they like? Where were they? I needed to know who they were.

Galadriel smiled, shallowly. "A difficult decision it must be. Your choice also determines which events in the pool become realities."

I summoned a shaky breath, deep from my diaphragm. My nasal cavity burned and stung with salty air. A lump grew in my throat. I took a strained gulp around the choked mass of thick tears. "I, I h-have t-to choose?"

Galadriel nodded, sadly. "Yes, but remember, as you decide, that even the smallest of things can change the course of the future. All that you have to decide is what to change."

My shoulders slumped, and my head drooped. That had just made my decision even more difficult. What I saw in the pool tortured me. It was Frodo's sanity, Merry's emotions, my sister's life, and Pippin's happiness all jumbled together, and half of it was going to happen. My decision could give or take a life, it seemed.

My stomach churned, even though there was hardly anything in it. I clutched my middle. The water in the pool spun before my eyes, and I began to lose my balance. I toppled backwards, but Galadriel's gentle hands caught me before I smacked the hard ground. She gazed at me, concerned.

My vision grew hazy. The lights of Lothlorien blurred and dimmed as if I had tears in my eyes. "Lady Galadriel?" I huffed. "What is my sister's name?" I hung onto her glowing silhouette for a second longer.

Galadriel's voice sounded as if it was underwater. "Her name is Eowyn."

The light vanished. I fell into blackness.


	17. Treasures More Valuable than Gold

**_Chapter 17: Treasures more Valuable than Gold_**

The rays from the rising sun painted the green blankets of forest a golden tone of yellow. The Fellowship stood proudly in a straight line, acknowledging Galadriel. Her beam that was thrust upon us was brighter than any torch I had ever seen. It almost made me sick. I felt horribly nauseated at the fact that she could appear so beautiful, high and mighty, when the weight of lives was upon our sweaty backs.

I stared at my feet. Eowyn, or the quest? The question repeated itself over and over again and filled every corner and crevice of my entire being.

I noticed that Lady Galadriel was glowing before me, and I raised my head high. She beamed at me. I flinched at her light.

"And to the maiden who carries the weight of two worlds, her own and her friends, on her shoulders, I give my own sacred shell from the Shores of Valinor, may it alleviate the suffering of aged wounds." She winked at me.

I sighed in wonder as she gingerly placed the shimmering shell into my small palms. I turned the spiky, pink shell in my finger tips. Dark green moss was crawling up the ridges of the patterned shell like a spider's web. I blinked in disbelief and shook my head. "I cannot possibly accept this."

My arm hovered in the air, but Galadriel gently pressed my hands back to my stomach. She gazed into my eyes sincerely. "You must take it, Larkspur. You do not have to accept it, yet, but you must convey it," she ordered. "for my own sake."

I studied the shell placed between my palms. I smiled for the first time since Rivendell, and nodded, consented at Galadriel's request.

She beamed, and moved my curls back from my forehead. "Thank you, my dear Larkspur. Now is there anything else that I could grant you for your contradict?" asked Galadriel.

I rummaged about my brain and grinned rebelliously. "I should like to know what 'Meldamiriel' means in the common tongue."

Galadriel smirked and straightened. "That question does not reside with me. I would ask the person who spoke the word to tell you what its secrets are." She winked, knowingly, but then became serious. "Dare not, maiden Larkspur. It may be the fate of you."

My forehead clumped together in a knot as she move onto Gimli. I fingered the pink shell, curiously, and then stashed it carefully into the folds of my moss-colored cloak. My whole life was a mystery. First it was my family, now it was this shell, my fate, and the future of my friends. Was knowing Eowyn worth losing a life of a dear friend? Any friend? I glanced over at Frodo's delicate features, worn by grief tearing away at his pristine skin. Then there was Pippin and Merry, who were already bantering around with their brand new daggers, getting into shenanigans. Was my sister worth that? Was it worth taking away their treasures?


	18. Kiss of Wish

**_Chapter 18: Kiss of Wish_**

By the time the golden sun had cast long, red shadows over the river, we had arrived at the cascade of clear, cold water into the frothing basin. We could go no further. I was perched on the rocky edge of the river, fingering Galadriel's gift. It glinted in the sun, a silvery color like an illusion. The choices raced in my brain. The choice to stay with Frodo might cost the life of Eowyn or Merry or Pippin or Aragorn or anybody, but the decision to meet my sister again might put the whole quest to an end. All would be lost, because I was selfish. All of Middle Earth would be destroyed-Rivendell, the Shire, the Grey Havens-all because I wanted to know about my past. Frodo was right. I should have just stayed in Rivendell.

I twirled the shell in my hand. It shone a metallic-silver, but it also had a glare of all the colors of a rainbow. It was beautiful, but what was the point of it? Why did Galadriel, the most powerful of all the Elves, give me this shell?

In the midst of my ponderings, Pippin asked, "Where's Frodo?"

I shot to my feet, and glanced around, panicked. To my horror, Boromir had vanished as well. I bolted through the forest shouting, "Frodo?! Frodo?!" while mentally, I bashed myself against the rough bark of the trees surrounding me. Stupid. Idiot. Why are you sulking about yourself when your best friend has to carry the most dangerous evil in the entire universe on a string about his neck? Why are you so selfish? You feel sorry for yourself, because you have to make one decision. One decision! His life is on the line every single day. What is your problem?!

I was bashing myself around so much that I didn't even realize an orc was nearby until I was shoved to the ground with such a force that my breath disappeared. I fumbled for my Elvish-blade as I gasped for air and scrambled to my feet clumsily.

I squared myself to the orc, who was much larger than I expected. Its yellowed teeth snarled at me. I growled right back and charged the beast, head on with full force. It caught me off guard as I took a gigantic swing at its hairy legs. It pushed me to the ground, hard. It grinned, evilly, as its curved sword positioned itself to severe my vocal cords. I closed my eyes, prepared for my death.

All of a sudden, I heard a war yell as Merry and Pippin barged out of the nearby brush. They fought the huge orc with all of their might, but soon, more orcs came thundering out of the twilight-covered trees. Merry yelled to me, "Go, Spur! Frodo needs you. We can hold them. It'll be fine!"

"No," I protested, stubbornly. "You can't hold them by yourselves. I won't leave you to die, Merry."

"Larkspur," Merry said, seriously. "You have a choice to make. You can't choose both. Go on with Frodo. Destroy it. I'll be waiting here for you. I promise. But it is your choice and your choice alone."

I stared into his serious eyes and made my decision. I gave him a half-smile, pressed my cold fingers to my lips, and blew-not a kiss-but a wish. A wish that he could use to grip onto the light in the faintest of hours. A wish that he would always be the mischievious, intelligent, brave hobbit that I always knew. A wish that he would not change.


	19. What Breaks a Heart, Tears you Apart

_**Chapter 19: What Breaks a Heart, Tears you Apart**_

I sprinted out of the thicket of trees like my life depended on it, which, in a way, it kind of did. The chill wind sliced at my torn clothes and face like a tiny knife and made my lungs freeze, burning with every gasp. I kept dashing until finally I was at the river's shore. The water lapped at the white rocks like they were ice cream on a hot summer day in the Shire, licking up every last morsel. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, taking in every last detail of a relaxing life: the sound of water, the whispering wind rustling through the trees, the sparrow fluttering past. My eyes shot open. There was no going back.

Frodo and Sam were in the middle of the river, paddling with an absent strength. I took a step forward. "Frodo!" I called.

His cloudy eyes flashed to mine, angrily. "No, Larkspur. Sam and I are going to Mordor alone. You're not coming." He paddled swifter at the gentle current.

I lunged into the icy river and fought my way through the restrictive chill, clenching my teeth, tight. "Yes, I am coming, Frodo. I am not letting you endure this alone. Nothing can in my way to keep me from getting to you." The water rose to my chest.

Frodo's sad, puppy-dog eyes grew desperate. "Go back, Larkspur. You can't swim," he ordered and stopped rowing.

"Watch me!" I shouted at him, stubbornly. I was practically in tears of denial as the frigid water rose above my head, and I was enveloped in a bubble of cold. I couldn't think. The shock from the freezing feeling was not allowing my brain to process. I was sinking. For the second time that day, I was positive I was going to die. I ran out of air. My eyes drooped shut.

Out of nowhere, a firm hand grasped my wrist. A tingling feeling shot through my fingertips; I forced my brain to think, "HOLD," and my frozen fingers wrapped themselves around the wrist. In one sharp yank, I was lugged out of the death trap.

I coughed and gagged up the gritty river water and choked the air into my lungs while being shook to death by Frodo. "Larkspur, you're so stupid and stubborn," he fretfully scolded, shrilly. "Why did you do that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

I glanced up at his terrified face. His eyes were overflowing with wet tears, and his eyes were piercingly blue. His fragile face was pale with worry. I wiped at my own tears and whimpered, "Why can't you just accept it? The life you want me to live is a life I wouldn't dare to live. I'm not an average hobbit or maiden for that matter. I'm a warrior. I won't allow you to endure this alone Frodo. The least I can do is be in your company on this journey. I see it every day: how it tears you apart. It breaks my heart to see you this way Frodo," I cried.

In a flash, I was being squished by Frodo's unyielding enfold around my frame. I blinked in surprise for a moment, but then clasped him with an equal amount of enthusiasm. We both buried our faces into each other's necks. I felt Frodo's tepid tears trickling down my neck and drenching my hair even more. I didn't care, though.

Frodo gasped shrilly as he clenched me tightly to him, "My parents drowned when I was very young. I never told you that, but just now you almost drowned, as well. You terrified me. Do you have any idea how devastated I would be if I lost you the same way I lost my parents? I don't want to lose you Larkspur, and I'm afraid-no-terrified that if you come along you'll...y-you'll..," he dropped off.

I grasped his shoulders and leaned back, so I could behold his brooded visage. His disheartened eyes glimpsed at the hollow of the boat, "It's not going to happen," I assured. "Frankly, you should be more worried about yourself than me..."

"Larkspur," he interrupted. "I'm not coming back. I know it in my heart. I can feel it every day as the eye draws near. I don't think I'm meant to come back." He reached for his neck, absent mindedly.

My mouth dropped in alarm. I couldn't get to Frodo's true mind; it was far away. I handled his hand gingerly between my own, yearning for him to come back to me. "No, you're going to come back, Frodo. You're going to come back, and-and see the Shire again. You're going to run through its fields and climb trees, just like we did when we were young. And then you'll find a beautiful lady, as pretty as the gardens of the Shire, and you'll get married and have a dozen children, and you'll grow old, happy for the rest of your days. Just like Uncle Bilbo." I assured him.

"It's a shattered hope, Meldamiriel, but it is a hope nonetheless," he said with the smallest of smiles tempting on his lips.

My eyebrows crinkled together. "Will you not tell me what Meldamiriel means?"

This time Frodo really smirked, teasingly, picked up an oar, and persisted rowing to shore, leaving me in a swarm of naïve confusion. I peeked at Sam and saw his eyes roll, hugely. I was so abashed.


	20. Shattered Hope

_**Chapter 20: Shattered Hope**_

My hope, shattered by Gandalf's fall, was somewhat mended in the presence of my two best friends, but my worry for Merry and Pippin bloated my gut, like I had just eaten a filling meal of potatoes. Except, the feeling was always there; it never left. Oh, why did I leave those two to fend for themselves? They could be dead, for all I knew. As if to make our terrible situation even worse, the bleak sky grayed and began to pour buckets of water.

We crunched up together under a cliff and tried our best to maintain a dry atmosphere, but we were all soaked to our skins and trembling within minutes.

After a few moments, Frodo's breathing slowed. In his sleep he had unwarily nuzzled up to my shoulder, his long eyelashes fluttering against his glowing cheekbones. I glance to Sam who gave me a shrug and curled up on his side. Frodo lengthened his stout legs and sighed in his dreams; his frail body rose and fell against mine, his warm exhalation prickling at the follicles on my wrist. Why could he not stay this way forever? When he would wake, he would be distant and helpless, unaware of other beings...unaware of me...I knew it was all the Ring's doing; it played tricks on his mind, trying to make him corrupt, becoming a heavier burden with each stride he took. He couldn't help it, but still, it pained me to see him so distant, for every ounce of weakness he showed was a pound of proof that Lady Galadriel's prophecy could become reality. Then, all would be lost.

Exhaustion swept over me like a gust of frigid wind. It filled my limbs like tea fills a cup, and my eyes suddenly felt as if my eyelashes weighed 1,000 pounds.

"Well, I suppose it will be safe to rest for half a moment." I yawned and closed my eyes in pleasure. With a smile, I let my head fall to Frodo's curly locks which smelled of a strong mixture of autumn leaves, salt, soft petals, rain-water, and buttery lembas bread. To me it was like Eyown's Elvish song, lulling me to dreams. I soon found myself galloping joyously through the lush meadows of the beautiful Shire.

I giggled happily, and whipped my ringlets about my head, letting the sun glisten upon my fair, freckled skin. With a sigh, I collapsed into the lanky grasses. The blue sky was as vivid as a violet flower, and the warm breeze whispered about me as the grass tickled at my ankles. I closed my eyes. A few moments later, I felt a presence standing over me, studying the fine details of my image-a smiling presence-a presence I knew would never exist again.

My eyes flicked open just in time for me to glance over and see a gnarly creature preparing to pounce at Frodo's neck. My stomach caught in my throat at the sight. Adrenaline pulsed through me as I launched myself at the gangly animal with blue, bulb-like eyes with a spiked rage. I knew that this slinky, sly thing had to be the twisted Gollum. I struggled to entwine my fingers around his neck as he groped past me, fingers itching for that infernal Ring.

Frodo scuttled out of his grasp, and unsheathed Sting. Gollum's stubborn arms locked around my Trachea. I gasped for a sliver of air that would not come. Frodo clenched his jaw in fury, positioned the hourglass-shaped sword under Gollum's chin and ordered in a menacing voice, "This is Sting. You've seen it before. Haven't you, Gollum." His eyes flashed with a fury I had never seen in his eyes before. My stomach twisted. He gritted his teeth. "Now release her, or I'll cut your throat," he threatened.

Five seconds passed before Gollum's choke slackened and air rushed into my lungs again, like water through a hole in a bucket. I coughed. Gollum quivered and let out a bloodcurdling wail as Sam bound him with the Elvish rope he had gotten as a gift from Lady Galadriel.

"It burns! It burns us!" Gollum's shriveled body twisted as if he had been standing by the fire too long and gotten his backside sizzled. "Wicked Elves twisted it," he wailed.

My face coiled into an expression of disgust. Gollum was worse than I had imagined. His wrinkled, leathery skin clung to his bones, and his limbs were long and lanky, like naked tree branches. His oversized, pale-blue eyes took up most of the space on his shriveled head. He was a revolting sight. "Perhaps we should tie him up and leave him," I offered.

"No!" Gollum wined. "That would kill us."

My face wrinkled in disgust as Gollum withered on the dusty path. "And good riddens!" I said defiantly.

Gollum whimpered, but Frodo-standing next to me-was staring at him with an unblinking curiosity. "Maybe he does deserve to die," He spoke thoughtfully. "And now that I see him, I do pity him."

My brows crinkled at Frodo's fascination. Didn't he realize that this was the creature that started this conflict in the first place? He could kill us if he wanted to. He nearly did it to Bilbo, and he was just hungry then. What would this nasty creature become when the Power of the One overtook his personality? I didn't want to live to see the day.

Gollum's eyes widened in wonder as he inched forward timidly. "We swears we won't hurt the master of the Precious, or his friends." He added. He clutched the rope as if it were infernal and pleaded, "Take it off us, please. We swears to serve the master of the Precious. We swears...on the Precious!"

"The Ring is corrupt. It will hold you to your word," explained Frodo as he timidly, but steadily unbound the silver rope from around Gollum's neck.

A crazed look grew in Gollum's eyes when he saw the glint of gold dangling at Frodo's chest, but Frodo didn't notice, for he was too busy untangling Gollum's bonds. Gollum's fingers inched out to reach for the Ring, eyes gazed on his prize.

I flung my figure between Gollum's groping fingers, cutting his eyes from the Power attempting to meld him. "Stop! No, Frodo. We can't trust him." I reasoned while taking care to stare into the blue pools instead of the glinting gold circle prying for my attention by pulsing through my head like a hammering headache. "You remember what happened to Bilbo? It could very well happen again. He'll try to take the Ring. He's a villain, and he'll always be a villain." I spat at Gollum's orb-like eyes. I inched closer to Frodo and whispered under my breath. "You know very well what happened the first time he got corrupt by the Ring. It'll happen again. I know it. He'll kill us. He's a murderer, Frodo. He'll never change as long as the Ring remains within his grasp."

Understanding pity etched itself into Frodo's expression, along with a flash of sorrow. I could see that it pained him to disagree with me as he put a chilled hand to my flushed cheek. "I know, Larkspur, but that's why we have to trust him. He knows the way to Mordor. He can lead us to Mount Doom, and then, it will be out of any one's grasp forever. I need you to believe in him, Larkspur. Trust me." The corners of his lips twitched into a small, short smile at my pained expression as he dragged the smooth backs of his fingernails down the side of my cheek to my chin. The brush chilled the marrow cavity of my bones, and I closed my eyes and shuddered. Frodo's gesture was meant to be warm and comforting, from Frodo's beautiful, shining-silver heart to my own, but it was as if the Power of the One created a thick layer of monotone cold around his whole body, like a snake's skin, no hope, love, or comfort could penetrate the radiation of empty, hollow Power-not even the comfort, hope, or love from Frodo's glittering gold soul.


	21. Empty Waters

**_Chapter 21: Empty Waters_**

The Dead Marshes, or so Gollum (or Smegol, as Frodo preferred I call him) says they're called, was about the most depressing thing I had ever seen. Gollum (I believe that the One deserves that name after all it had done, even if it was just the Ring side of Gollum) explained that ever since the Great War the elves, men, dwarves, and orcs slept in the waters. "Don't follow the lights," Gollum warned. "Or hobbits go down to join the dead people and light little candles of their own." He sneered at me. I hated the Ring.

In the dark, mossy-green water, placid faces, like bobbing eye-balls with the mysterious, floating torches shining on them, shone with an eerie glow through the murk. All were dead, eyes glued shut. Their skeleton-like heads made a tremble creep down to my tailbone, and my throat closed up, tight. Something about the people in the fog made a terrifying adrenaline slide through my veins. My eyes flickered from one head to the next as if I was being watched by them, and I knew that any moment I would catch one with piercing red eyes, staring into my very soul.

What I got was much worse. To my left, hovering inches below the surface of the gritty water was a man and a woman, hands clasped together with their weak, pale fingers intertwined. The lady's wavy, long, blonde hair floated around her head like a silver spider web, her face gashed with white scars across her cheeks as if she had been sliced with many knives. I knew in an instant that it was Eowyn. She was exactly as I saw her as a child, but the man at her side was even more shocking to see in the midst of the water. He was particularly short-far shorter than Eowyn-and stocky, for that matter. His pudgy stomach stuck out of his bloodstained armor a bit. Fresh blood was still trickling down his arm and out of a rather large hole in his chest. In his left hand he still clutched a bloodstained blade. Long, blonde, shaggy ringlets cascaded around his strong face which was battered, and in one spot there was a massive, pink scar above his right eyebrow. His eyelashes rested against his shallow cheekbones. I jolted when I saw the hobbit's pained frown, and I felt like the light of my life had gone out with a snap. I fell to my knees, uselessly in tears, and whispered, "No...Merry..."

Just then a terrific splash sounded behind me. I whiplashed my head toward the sound. One of the glistening pools off to the right side of the path had white bubbles frothing in it as the unsettled surface bobbed from an impact. My stomach clenched up in a knot. "FRODO!" I yelled shrilly. I scrambled to the edge, tripping over my own feet in the process, but before I could even strip off my elven cloak, Gollum dived headlong in after him. "No!" I screeched at him. He'd gone to retrieve the Ring.

I kicked at the mud along the path and cursed. "Why do you have to be so selfish?! He's going to kill him, and it's going to be all my fault! Stupid Ring!" I screamed at no one in particular as my fingernails dug into the soft, sensitive skin on my inner thighs. "You win, Sauron. You've taken everything away that's important to me! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT!" I wailed and sank to my knees in tears.

The surface of the water bubbled, and Gollum emerged, dragging Frodo by the points of his ears. Frodo sputtered water from his lungs as he struggled to get his body out of contact with the glowing water.

"Frodo!" I gasped, and in my relief, I flung myself to his side, grasped him by his checkered suspenders, and nuzzled my face into his wet neck. "Frodo, Frodo," I whispered as if saying his name was a comfort that went through me, never satisfying enough to say it once. "Oh my dear, Frodo. Now it's you that has almost drowned." I laughed in stressed hysterics.

After a moment, I pulled back to look at his eyes, but they were looking past me, through me. I didn't exist anymore. "Gollum?.." he uttered distantly. He could not feel anything anymore, and I knew it. Not even my throbbing love for him that I finally had the courage to show him after so many long years of running away from him in fright. My heart ached for him to come back from his misery and woe to let me show him that nothing will happen to him, whilst I am here with him and that I will shield him forever and let the Ring hurt him no longer, but he will never come back; there is no coming back for Frodo of the Shire, at all, not even when it's all over and done. So if Frodo will never come back, then I'm not coming back either.

My eyes drifted down to my hands clasped between my knees. Dread filled my heart-like a leaky bucket with stale, rancid water oozing out of a mold-rotted hole in the bottom of it-as I rocked myself to my feet, leaving him to his confusion, and turned toward the road on. My head flopped with each step, and I wiped a warm tear that was clinging to the middle of my eyelashes for life. I didn't care anymore. Seeing Frodo like this was worse than what I saw in the mirror. I couldn't bear it.

When I staggered past the pool that Merry and Eyown were drifting in, I turned to take one last peak at Merry before I ventured out into the unknown, never to return. I just wanted to see my brother's face one last time. The problem was that when I glanced into the pool again, it was empty. Merry and Eyown were gone...


End file.
